


In The Shadows

by Udunie



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Familiars, Future Fic, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Murder Husbands, Powerful Stiles Stilinski, Sort Of, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-02-01 01:00:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12693795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Udunie/pseuds/Udunie
Summary: Contrary to what most people who knew him for even just three seconds would think, Peter didn’t directly seek out a vulnerable Alpha to take the power from… It had been different at home, with the land so close and begging him to stake a claim. Out in the world he was a vagabond with no ties to anyone or anything, and he enjoyed the drifting.But he would have lied if he said he didn’t act on the opportunity when it finally presented itself on a cold, misty Paris night.Feeling the spark of it course through his veins and settle in his chest again was like… like waking up from a coma. Everything was more vibrant, more real all of a sudden.For a second he was almost - uncharacteristically - afraid that, like before, he wouldn’t be able to control it, going out of his mind with too much, too soon, too… everything. But after the first few minutes of mind-blowing, overwhelming power clouding his mind he was able to reign it in.It still left his eyes burning red, his mouth tasting like blood and his heart wishing for home.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Green](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green/gifts).



> This is for the lovely Greene who bid on me over at the Fandom Loves Puerto Rico auction! Thank you so much, and I'm sorry for taking so long... But at least it will be two chapters? ^^;;;
> 
> All my love to Emma who keeps me going and tries to keep me rational, even tough I make it hard <3

Even after leaving Beacon Hills, he’d been distantly aware of the going-ons of the town. There were only a few places in the states with such a grisly supernatural history and a Nemeton to boot and Peter made a habit of keeping his ears to the ground.

And boy, what a good idea that was. Sure, it wasn’t easy to separate rumors from facts… For example he heard that Scott McCall - True Alpha and folk hero in the making - single handedly defeated the Alpha Pack with nothing but his wits and his sizeable heart. Yeah, no. Peter had been there for that, and he wasn’t yet senile enough to forget what actually went down. Anyway, the fact that supernatural news traveled by mouth made them a lot less reliable than he wanted, but he was still able to piece a few events together… 

All in all, if even a tenth of what he heard did happen, he was happy that he left that hot-mess of a town behind right after what happened with Deucalion and his lot. He’d lost six years of his life, it wasn’t like he didn’t deserve a vacation anyway.

He spent a year or two traveling to all the states - something he wanted to do the next summer, had the fire not destroyed his life - and then he made a little round-trip to Europe. Venice was lovely. They’d been there once with Talia when they were kids. Peter thought he would hate it, with all his old memories layered over the city, but to his surprise, they only made the few months he spent there sweeter. Alright, maybe bitter-sweeter, but he was willing to take it.

After Venice, there was Rome, then Milan, then Berlin, Brussels and Budapest for a really fun two weeks that ended with an actual witch-hunt.

Before he knew it, more than four years passed since the last time he stepped foot in his hometown, and other than the occasional pang of longing for pack, he didn’t miss it... 

Contrary to what most people who knew him for even just three seconds would think, Peter didn’t directly seek out a vulnerable Alpha to take the power from… It had been different at home, with the land so close and begging him to stake a claim. Out in the world he was a vagabond with no ties to anyone or anything, and he enjoyed the drifting. 

But he would have lied if he said he didn’t act on the opportunity when it finally presented itself on a cold, misty Paris night.

Feeling the spark of it course through his veins and settle in his chest again was like… like waking up from a coma. Everything was more vibrant, more  _ real  _ all of a sudden. 

For a second he was almost - uncharacteristically - afraid that, like before, he wouldn’t be able to control it, going out of his mind with too much, too soon, too… everything. But after the first few minutes of mind-blowing, overwhelming power clouding his mind he was able to reign it in.

It still left his eyes burning red, his mouth tasting like blood and his heart wishing for home.

***

Peter was grateful that he decided to stop a bit outside of the city limits to make his way into Beacon Hills through the preserve on foot… He wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have driven into a tree the second a force of strange, strong magic washed over him when he entered.

Well, well, well, things have seem to changed quite a bit.

There had been rumors of course, contradicting ones, even. In Paris, he heard that Scott was good and kind and nothing less than a prince among men. In Budapest, he’d been warned to keep away from that cursed town because something was there… something dark and lurking would swallow him whole if he put a toe out of line.

Peter had taken both of those things with quite a large grain of salt. Now he stopped, standing on that invisible barrier, trying to figure out who or what was responsible for it… What intentions lay behind it.

The magic was undoubtedly powerful. Intricate. Purposeful. 

But it didn’t feel malicious. It washed over him with a strange air of curiosity, prodding at him, pulling at his insides like it wanted to take him apart and figure out what made him tick. Despite the shock of it even being there, Peter couldn’t deny the startling sense of familiarity of it.

It looked like Beacon Hills became a very… interesting place in his absence.

***

The first place he went to was Derek’s. It was a bit disorienting how much and how little the town seemed to have changed. His favorite diner - not a  _ good  _ one by any means, but still his favorite - closed, but he noticed two new ones he couldn’t recall. The library got a new paint job. The car dealership was as garishly advertised as ever.

Derek at least, was his old, cheerful self.

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s nice to see you too, nephew. How have you been? Don’t you even have a hello for your poor, neglected uncle?” he asked, pushing in beside him into the - still dimly lit, still mostly empty - loft. God, where did this boy get his aesthetic misgivings from? Even Talia had taste.

Derek frowned at him, crossing his arms, like just the power of his disdain could somehow make Peter disappear. Many people tried that before him, and none of them succeeded.

“Hello, Peter. What the  _ hell  _ are you doing here?”

It would have been easy to just flash his eyes at Derek and make him submit. It didn’t matter how much he wanted to be loyal to dear, perfect Scott, the pull of his own blood would always be stronger.

But Peter didn’t spend weeks figuring out how to reliably mask his newfound Alpha-hood from people only to blow his cover on his first day back.

He needed to learn the lay of the land first; rushing into potential danger was never quite his style.

“Honestly, I thought you would be a lot happier to see me,” he said, looking around, trying to see if there were unfamiliar scents lingering in the air, or even something permanent. God save them if Derek got together with someone - that never ended well in Peter’s experience.

“I don’t think anyone has been happy to see you in the last ten years,” Derek bit out, his eyes suspiciously following Peter’s every move.

“You hurt my feelings,” he said with an eyeroll.

Before he could get a scathing remark in, the door opened - no knocking, no nothing.

“Hey guys. Hi Peter, how are things?” Stiles asked, strolling in like he owned the place. And also like seeing Peter standing there after years of absence was the most natural thing in the world.

It immediately made him realize why that wisp of magic against his skin had been so familiar. How could he have been such an idiot?

Stiles… Stiles looked good. He looked all grown up; he shed the awkwardness of his teenage years somewhere along the line. His body looked more… solid. Less like the spazzy stick figure he used to be. There was also some new, unidentifiable confidence in his stance.

Inexplicably, he looked  _ powerful _ , and if there was something Peter loved, it was power.

“Well,  _ hello  _ there, Stiles.”

It was almost alarming how little he had to fake his smile.

***

He spent his first few days getting reintroduced to the pack; at least the suspicion and the barely veiled threats were as familiar as the smell of the Preserve. 

All in all, it went better than he expected. Scott - sweet, dumb Scott - deigned to forgive him, offering a place in his pack for Peter with as much gravitas as he could muster while still having the charisma of a drenched puppy.

He accepted it - it wasn’t like he was in a rush - and he couldn’t help feeling like there was a whole shadowy, secret world behind the True Alpha and his perfect little pack.

Lydia was suspicious of course, and so was Allison. Smart girls, those two, Peter respected common sense. The betas mostly fell easily in step behind Scott, but what he found the most interesting was Stiles.

During the whole meeting where his ‘fate’ was decided, the boy barely said a word. That was unusual in and of itself, if Peter’s memory could be trusted… still, he might not have been talking, but Peter didn’t miss the way his clever eyes flickered from person to person, gauging their reactions under the pretence of being his usual, unconcentrated self.

It was a stellar act, and as much as he loathed to admit it, Peter couldn’t even tell if Stiles was happy or not with the way things went.

***

Peter found himself a little apartment in the middle of town, in a new building pulled up where the abandoned mall used to be. It wasn’t the best by any means - nowhere near his usual expectations of space and quality - but it was new, smelling clean and impersonal, and for now that was the most important. It wasn’t the Ritz, but it was passable.

Or at least he thought it was, until - for the third day in a row - he was woken by chirping. His place was on the second floor, with a huge willow tree in front of the window, and whatever little pest was bothering him, it seemed to be living in it. He tried several times to get a glimpse of the fucking bird that kept waking him at six in the morning, without success.

But it looked like today was his lucky day. He got out of bed, barely able to stop himself from popping claws from sheer irritation, and to his surprise, the criminal was sitting right in the middle of his windowsill.

Peter was on his way to smack the window to scare it away, but thankfully his sleep-addled brain managed to catch on just in time.

A red cardinal. 

He might not have been a master in ornithology, but he could have sworn those were not native around these parts.

Peter stopped, watching the bird with narrowed eyes. It looked back at him, hopping in place a few times then stilling, its head tilted to the side.

Well, well, well. He moved forward carefully, but the bird didn’t take off. Peter opened the window slowly until the cardinal was close enough to snatch. And as much as Peter wanted to take revenge for his lost hours of sleep, he held himself in check.

“Hello there, little one,” he said instead, the cold air waking him up fully. 

The cardinal chirped, hopping again, but making no move to fly off. Peter bent down, as close as he dared and sniffed at it. Huh. While magic didn’t have a smell of it’s own, Peter always found that it left something of an… ‘aftertaste’ in his nose. A bit like electricity.

For a second Peter and the cardinal stared at each-other.

“Since I’m already up,” he said finally when it looked like the bird wouldn’t be backing down, “why don’t you tell your master to come over for dinner? I’ll whip up something nice.”

The cardinal peeped at him, turning its head to the side, making Peter sigh.

“Go on, or you will be the entree,” he growled, biting towards it mockingly and the bird finally took off… Peter huffed out a breath in satisfaction and went to the kitchen. He needed some coffee and get started on a shopping list… Time to figure out what to cook for his favorite human. 

If Stiles could even still be considered that.

***

It was six on the dot when Peter heard the knock on his door. Right on time, he just took the salmon out. Maybe he should have been alarmed that he couldn’t hear any footsteps to announce his visitor, but surprisingly enough, all he felt was excitement.

“Good evening, Stiles,” he said, opening the door wide and bowing a little for the young man. God, he couldn’t remember anticipating a dinner this much since… forever. 

“Hey, I brought you some… beer.” He didn’t sound nervous exactly, but a bit hesitant.

“Beer.” Peter accepted the sixpack with a raised eyebrow. Wouldn’t have been his first choice to be honest.

Stiles shrugged, walking around his living room, looking calm and collected, except for his fingers twitching slightly by his sides.

“I know wine is the appropriate beverage, but it’s not really my style,” he said, turning in a small circle and finally stopping facing Peter again. “It’s some fancy European stuff though; unfiltered wheat beer, I thought it would be a nice compromise.”

Peter held his eyes for a moment, understanding what Stiles was bringing to the table: the possibility of a compromise. Maybe in more than their choice of drinks.

“I can work with that.”

***

Peter expected the dinner to go amicably. He usually preferred his meals without business, but - as it turned out - Stiles was set on surprisingly him at every turn.

“This is amazing,” the boy said, his mouth full of salmon, but Peter wasn’t given enough time to bask in the well deserved praise. “Also, I hear you’re an Alpha again.”

Peter did not choke on his - by the way excellent - beer. And even if he did, he got his composure back in less than a second.

“Mhm… And I hear you are a… mage? Is that the correct term?”

Stiles grinned at him over his glass.

“Who told you that?”

Peter raised an eyebrow pointedly.

“A little bird. A red cardinal, to be exact.”

Stiles snorted in a decidedly uncharming way.

“Okay, yes, mage is fine. I’ve been told I’ve outgrown the whole ‘emissary’ thing,” Stiles told him, taking another bite of the salmon and humming under his breath in a very much indecent way. Peter couldn’t remember him making noises like that before, and it just made the knowledge that his cooking was the cause of them all the sweeter.

“Seriously though, what do you want, Peter? Because I’m not going to let you hurt anyone in this pack. Well, okay, maybe Jackson, but not too much or Lydia will kill us both.”

Peter watched him, trying to figure out… he didn’t even know what. He was trying and failing to reconcile the young man in front of him with the spazzy boy he used to know. The only thing they seemed to have in common was the uncanny ability to catch Peter’s interest.

“I’m not going to say that it didn’t occur to me, taking back Beacon Hills, but… Things have changed.”

That was probably the understatement of the century.

Stiles took a large gulp of beer, his fingers tapping on the table to a rhythm only he could hear.

“Damn right. And if I catch you doing anything shady, I will not only kill you, I will make sure you stay dead.”

Peter grinned, propping his chin on his hand. 

“Lovely. So, how did you know I was an Alpha again? I was pretty sure my cloaking was working flawlessly…”

That was one of the only things really bothering him, to be honest. He’d been proud of how nicely he hid his power.

Stiles chuckled.

“It is working. The others have no clue, actually. Believe it or not, I heard it from someone in Paris.”

Oh.

“Impressive,” he said, “so, how come you haven’t blown my cover and had me kicked out?” Peter had no doubt that - even if Scott remained painfully naive - the pack would be on his throat in a second if they found out he was lying to them in any capacity.

Stiles popped the last bite of salmon in his mouth, chewing noisily before answering.

“Well, first of all, I like to have something over you. It makes me happy and lets me sleep better at night,” he said with a cheeky grin. Peter couldn’t decide if he wanted to claw it off his face… or do something very different with those lips.

“And second, as you probably already guessed, I’ve been putting in a lot of work to keep this place safe for everyone. Sometimes… sometimes that involves things that certain people wouldn’t really approve of,” Stiles explained, swirling the sip of beer left over in the bottom of his glass. There was a tightness around his mouth that made him look a lot older than he was. “I could - theoretically - use someone who has experience working behind the scenes.”

Ah. Ah, that was absolutely wonderful. Peter couldn’t really explain the thrill he was feeling at the prospect of that, but he was willing to explore it.

“In the shadows, you mean?” he asked, offering his glass for Stiles to clink.

The boy did, a smile hiding in the corner of lips again.

“Exactly. In the shadows.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it grew plot -_-
> 
> As always, thank you, my lovely Emma!

If there was one thing Peter’s sources back in Europe were right about, it was that Beacon Hills was a literal beacon for the supernatural… It only took two weeks for the Durand pack to announce that they wanted to pay them a visit.

“Alpha Emilia Durand… Who are she?” Scott asked, his nose adorably scrunched as he read over the actual letter that arrived via the actual mail in an expensive looking, cream colored envelope.

“First of all,” Peter said, massaging the bridge of his nose, “You don’t pronounce the ‘d’ at the end.”

Scott made a little ‘oh’ sound and Peter gave Stiles a look from the corner of his eyes while their prodigal Alpha read over the letter again. The boy looked deep in thought, his fingers idly picking on the frayed hem of his shirt. So he must have suspected what this meant.

Before Peter could launch into an explanation, Derek spoke up. Probably for the best. His nephew still had a lot more credit than he did, so it was only wise to let him bear the bad news.

“They are pretty much like the Argents, only werewolves. They can trace their ancestry back to the beast of Gevaudan, and even farther… I don’t know much about them, but mom used to say they are the oldest pack in America, and a branch of their family is one of the oldest continuous packs in Europe as well.”

Lydia took the letter from Scott, skimming it over.

“Alright. So they're big shots, I imagine. This seems all politely worded, but I just  _ know  _ something is fishy about this.”

Peter nodded in agreement.

“Yes. First of all, that letter was addressed to the Hale house. We only got it, because Derek and I put up a PO box.”

“But… Everyone knows what happened to the Hale house,” Allison said, frowning.

Ah, clever, clever girls.

“ _ Exactly _ . Dear old Emilia has just outright questioned Scott’s authority. As far as she is concerned, this is Hale land, and she's miffed that any change to that order happened without her permission.”

“But… But I’m a True Alpha?” Scott said hesitantly. 

Peter barely managed to stop himself from rolling his eyes. It almost hurt.

“Yes, and I’m sure they know that, they just don’t care… Let me give you a quick history lesson on American lycanthropy,” Peter offered. “While there were shapeshifters among Native Americans before the European colonization, the first werewolves - the ones like you and me - were the Durands. With time, and as their pack grew, it broke apart and then lycanthropy spread. New packs were born. Some were born even with the appearance of True Alphas, but the fact of the matter is, every single werewolf in North America can trace his or her power back to the Durands.”

“Does that make them more powerful?” Stiles asked, speaking up for the first time. Peter inclined his head. Excellent question.

“In some ways, yes. An Alpha gets his strength from his betas, and even though the effect is much weaker and subdued, the head Alpha of the Durand clan is strengthened by every single werewolf in America, since her spark is the origin of all of our power from Alphas to omegas.”

“Shit,” Allison said.

Aptly put.

***

“So,” Stiles asked as soon as they were in Peter’s apartment. He’d taken up the habit of dropping by whenever there was business to discuss, or whenever he wanted to get out of his father’s hair, and Peter had to admit he didn’t mind it at all.

In fact, the took some bizarre kind of pleasure in cooking for Stiles, figuring out what he liked and what he didn’t… what dishes made him moan in a way that made it hard for Peter to keep his composure.

“So?” Peter asked, already in the kitchen. He had some lovely chicken parmesan in the fridge from last night. 

“So, what do the Durands actually want? This is not a courtesy call, right? I mean, I did my research, and they don’t have a claim on Beacon Hills exactly, but everybody seems to be afraid of them.”

Straight back to business, then.

It was a very good question, though.

“It’s hard to say. She’d been polite enough to send a letter, which is good news. If they were really pissed at us, they would have just shown up here and taken what they wanted. They would certainly have the firepower to do it.”

Stiles dropped down to the couch, his face dark.

“Yeah, well, I will have some things to say about that.”

Peter sighed.

“As lovely as your commitment is, the Durands are way too big of a fish for you. Or for me. Or possibly the both of us… To say the least, they have hundreds of years worth of undisturbed knowledge at their disposal. You can’t just… google that stuff.”

Stiles huffed out a breath, leaning back and closing his eyes for a second. Peter put the chicken into the oven - it should be delicious even reheated.

“So what do you suggest? We just lay down and let them do whatever they want?” Stiles asked with a surprising amount of heat in his voice. It - once again - reminded Peter that this boy, no matter how unremarkable he was for the untrained eye, had already worked his ass off to keep Beacon Hills safe. Honestly, Stiles was more of a Hale than either he or Derek.

“No, of course not. If there’s one thing I know about the Durands, it’s that they are old and traditional. They won’t just… sneak in and attack us, not after a letter like that. They will arrive in all their glory with a delegation, they will expect to be wined and dined in the best place Beacon Hills has to offer before even hinting at what they actually want. We will have time to figure things out.”

“Ugh,” Stiles said, eloquently, though he seemed to perk up a bit with the scent of heavenly chicken wafting through the air. “So what do we do now?”

Peter grinned even as he started to set the table.

“We have a lovely dinner, and then, tomorrow, we are going shopping.”

***

“I don’t see how this is necessary,” Stiles whined as they entered the mall. It was just him and Peter, but only because he already asked to Lydia to take care of the others. He had no doubt that the girl would stab him in the back with a smile if he put a toe out of line, but if nothing else, she trusted her to dress the pack.

“It is absolutely necessary. For the Durands the presentation is very important, and I assure you, if they find a bunch of shabby teenagers in Beacon Hills they will not be impressed.”

Stiles sighed, rubbing the back of his head. He looked tired, then again, Peter knew for a fact that he spent the better part of the morning out in the Preserve, reinforcing the runes and wards he had in place. He would have been surprised if the poor boy slept more than three hours.

“I’m warning you, I have about forty bucks to my name,” Stiles told him, his face drawn, like he was expecting Peter to say something about it.

Peter said nothing about it.

It wasn’t hard to piece the picture together. Stiles wasn’t in college and he had no job. From the others, Peter knew that he tried, but none of his attempts worked out. That’s what happens when you are running a whole town in the background. Not like the others were even dimly aware of that. Well, maybe except for Lydia, but she - thankfully - didn’t share her suspicions with the rest of the mutts.

As far as he knew, Stiles’ only income was writing research papers for kids in college. 

Peter would have lied if he said he didn’t feel a personal little thrill at the prospect of dressing Stiles.

“It’s on me,” he said easily, waving a hand in the air when it looked like the boy would protest. “Oh, please, I have more money than I can spend in seven lifetimes. And anyway, it’s only proper.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes, dodging out of the way of a gaggle of teenagers to keep up with Peter.

“It’s only ‘proper’ how? What do you mean?”

Peter huffed out a breath. For how bright the boy usually was, he could be surprisingly dumb on occasion.

“You know, Stiles, if the Hales were still alive… If my sister was still the Alpha and you were doing the same things for us as you do for Scott? You would be on the pack’s payroll.”

Stiles made a confused little ‘huh’ sound.

“Come now, don’t be daft. We’ve paid Alan, and he did way less than you do. Being a… mage or whatever you are is a full time commitment, nobody should expect you to have a job beside it.”

When Peter glanced at him, Stiles was looking at the floor, his cheeks a bit flushed. It looked good on him.

***

The Beacon Hills Mall didn’t offer anywhere near the quality Peter would have liked, but after a few hours of struggle - Stiles almost walked out on him at least four times - they managed to build up a nice closet for him.

Probably a bit more than what he currently needed, but Peter tried to reason that they had no idea how long Emilia and her pack were staying, so it was better to be safe than sorry.

What could he say? He loved to dress the boy.

And that is how Stiles greeted the Durand pack in a beautiful three piece suit. It was supposed to be dark blue officially, but under the right light it looked almost violet… It made his eyes look like melted honey.

Peter was proud.

The rest of the pack - thanks to Lydia’s iron-fisted intervention - looked passable too.

“Alpha Emilia,” Scott said with a little nod, following the script they’ve painstakingly laid out beforehand.

Emilia Durand was a tall woman. Peter knew she was at least eighty, but she didn’t look it. Her face was narrow and smooth and other than her long, white hair nothing gave her age away.

“Alpha McCall,” she replied. Her voice was cool enough, but her eyes were even frostier. 

She came with three of her children, two of them also Alphas. Peter and Derek already prepared them to expect that; in a pack as old as the Durands there was more than one Alpha. Oh, Emilia was the head of the family, and everyone answered to her, but that didn’t mean she was the only one they had to worry about.

“Please give us the pleasure of your company for dinner,” Scott said, looking only a tiny bit out of his depth. Then again, if there was one thing he was good at, it was being boyishly charming.

Emilia regarded him for a second before agreeing. It was pretty much a formality - their little meetup was in front of the Rosevines, Beacon Hills’ only halfway proper restaurant.

“Thank you for your invitation,” she said, making everyone let go of the breath they were holding.

So far so good.

***

The diner was… amiable. At most.

“Peter, how are you? I heard you’ve only recently returned. I admit, I was quite surprised you would leave Beacon Hills for such a long time,” Emilia said. She had barely said a word to Scott, and it didn't skip people’s notice. She seemed more inclined to talk to Peter and Derek. Her children - if the family resemblance in the little entourage was anything to go by - were picking up the slack, talking to everyone in polite tones, but not Emilia.

Peter chewed on his bite of lamb, thinking about the best way to avoid falling for her little dig there.

“Yes, I admit I needed a change of scenery, but it was barely more than an… extended vacation. And, as you know, things have changed around here. I knew I was leaving everything in capable hands. But I’m happy to be back and closer to my pack.”

She gave him a long look. Stiles was watching their exchange carefully, probably trying to decode what was happening.

Before she could open her mouth, Scott took a gulp of his water and turned to her.

“Alpha Emilia, this is all… lovely and everything, we haven’t really built relationships with other packs, so I’m glad you’re here, but can I ask the reason for your visit?”

The air froze.

Peter wished he could bang his head against the table without escalating the situation.

To her credit, Emilia barely twitched.

“I can see you are fond of cutting to the chase, Alpha McCall… I can assure you, our intentions are pure. As you know, this town has a very grisly history. We have watched what happened to the Hales here with horror. For a while it looked like the territory fell into complete chaos, but in the last few years I was pleasantly surprised to see stability return,” she explained, for the first time tonight talking directly to Scott. “We are merely here to make sure the land is in the right hands, if it can’t be in the hands of the Hales anymore.”

Peter met Stiles eyes over the table. They didn’t need to speak to know that they were thinking the same.

She was lying.

***

It was such an innocuous thing, Peter almost didn’t notice that something was happening as they were all getting their coats from the cloakroom. 

But, Stiles was standing a bit closer to him than usual, and it gave him the feeling that the boy was looking for backup.

As he watched, Stiles closed his eyes, his face overtaken by intense concentration for only a few fleeting second, then his left arm jerked. Peter looked down to his hand just in time to see a sleek, unremarkable little lizard, no thicker than a finger slip from under the boy’s sleeve into the curl of his palm.

When he glanced up, Stiles was watching him, probably waiting to see if he would blow their cover, but Peter planned on doing no such thing. Especially not when things were getting so intriguing.

Instead, Peter shifted to the side to give more room to one of Emilia’s betas, bumping into her just enough that Stiles had to steady her, the little lizard scurrying up her shoulder and under the collar of his coat fast enough that Peter wouldn’t have noticed it at all if he wasn’t already looking.

The two packs parted in front of the dinner, with Emilia telling them that she would be expected to be shown around the Preserve tomorrow. Scott agreed, giving her a charming smile.

Stiles stood by Peter’s side, during the exchange, looking absentminded a tiny bit disoriented.

“You okay, dude?” Scott asked him as the Durand’s car roared to life and made it out of the parking lot. Stiles hummed under his breath in agreement, and Peter hurried to the rescue.

“He’d been up researching Emilia, he just needs to sleep. I will take him home.”

Scott looked a bit worried but left them to it, and Peter lead Stiles to his car by the elbow, ignoring Lydia’s suspicious gaze following them.

***

The boy didn’t even notice that they weren’t heading for the Stilinski house… but Peter wanted to stay on the safe side; he didn’t know how much the Sheriff knew about his son’s powers, so it was better to be safe than sorry.

Stiles was silent and still in the passenger seat, his head propped up against the window. His eyes were unfocused, but moving around. It was a disconcerting sight, and Peter was reminded of that red cardinal in his window… He wondered if Stiles got himself into such a state to spy on him too.

They were almost at his apartment when Stiles stirred.

“You can talk to me, by the way. It’s just disorienting at first.”

Despite his words, he still looked to be blind to the world around him, but well. Peter had questions.

“Why a lizard?”

It took the boy a minute or two to reply.

“Reptiles don’t have a strong smell, and they are smaller than most mammals so their heartbeat can go unnoticed.”

“Smart,” Peter told him as he pulled into a parking space. He got out and then opened Stiles door to lead him to the elevator.

“Is it always like this? I loath to think that you spend a lot of time as defenceless as this…”

The boy didn’t reply, he just put a finger in front of his mouth in the universal sign for silence.

Ah, it looked like there was audio too. Peter wondered how good the hearing of lizards was.

Just as he closed the door of his apartment behind them Stiles shuddered, finally looking aware of his surroundings again and then grabbed Peter’s shoulder, his eyes wide.

“Peter! They are looking for a rogue Alpha!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for Emma, who keeps me going <3

They’d spent the next few hours on… facebook. The Durand pack might have been prestigious and old, but they still lived in the twenty first century. It didn’t take long for Stiles to find the profile of a younger member of the pack, and from then on it was connect the dots.

Peter took the laptop from him, ordering Stiles to lay back on the sofa, since the boy had a hard time concentrating on both the screen and his little friend over at the Durands’ hotel room.

Peter tried to figure out which members of the Durand pack were Alphas. There had to be more than Emilia and her two cronies present. He highly doubted she would have left the rest of them without at least one, and that wasn’t counting the rogue, apparently.

“It’s a female,” Stiles said in a distracted, dreamy voice, so Peter crossed out a few people from his list. Unfortunately he doubted every Durand was on social media - Emilia certainly wasn’t - but it was a place to start.

“Young,” Stiles blurted out half an hour later. He was blinking slowly, like he was about to doze off, and as much as he hated to have to do it, Peter reached over to shake his ankle dangling over the arm of the couch.

“Don’t fall asleep, darling. What else are they saying? What do they want to do with her? Why do they think she’s here?”

Stiles swallowed, staring at the ceiling. Peter loathed how unfocused and empty his eyes were with a vehemence that surprised even himself.

“She… someone died and… she wasn’t ready…” he said, but it didn’t sound like he was making connections between the words.

Peter quickly changed his focus. He needed to find people who passed away recently. One of their kids will be the one.

“Spoiled,” Stiles murmured, making him raise an eyebrow. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

There was silence for a few, long minutes. Stiles’ fingers twitched as they played with the buttons of his suit jacket. Peter should have gotten him out of those before he lay down… 

“She’s not here yet.”

Yeah, he already suspected that. There was no way a rogue Alpha could have snuck past Stiles’ wards. Sure, they wouldn’t have stopped her, but they would have been warned.

But the question remained. Why would a rogue Alpha come here of all places? And how did the Durands know she would?

***

After an hour of silence, Peter decided that enough was enough. It didn’t seem like Stiles was getting anything from his lizard anymore - maybe the pack finally went to sleep - and the boy desperately needed some rest.

“Can you disconnect from it somehow?” Peter asked, standing above his prone body. 

Stiles shook his head slowly. It didn’t look like he had blinked in the last five minutes, and it was starting to show.

“He’ll be back soon, and then it will be okay,” he explained.

Peter frowned. He didn’t doubt that this method had its merits, but seeing Stiles like this got him as close to freaking out as he could get.

Then again, he imagined the little cardinal could be directed home much faster, even if that couldn’t be used now.

“Well, in any case, you need sleep. I don’t see why we shouldn’t wait for your little friend in bed.”

For the first time - just like he hoped - a hint of an expression flashed over Stiles face.

“You mean, your bed?”

Peter smirked, encouraged by the fact that Stiles couldn’t really see him.

“Don’t worry, I will be a gentleman… I have no doubt that your father would shoot me on sight if I got you home in this state.”

Stiles didn’t reply, and Peter decided to take that as consent.

He pulled the boy up, he wasn’t exactly unconscious, more like a doll that went where Peter put him. For a second he considered… abusing his unexpected position of power, just a little, but the idea quickly turned sour in his mouth. Sure, he liked to play with people, but mostly with those who he considered inferior. Stiles didn’t feel like that now, maybe he never did.

Peter took him to the bedroom and sat him on the edge of the bed, unbuttoning his jacket and then his waistcoat, his fingers careful with the shiny buttons. He pulled the boy’s clothes off one by one, and then kneeled, to undo his shirt too. 

Even as tired and worn as he was, Stiles looked amazing in his new clothes, and if Peter let his eyes linger while he worked? Well, nobody had to know.

***

Despite what most people who knew him would have imagined, he kept his gentlemanly promise, tucking Stiles in and then getting into his half of the bed, an - almost - respectable distance away. He thought he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep, not when Stiles was still in that weird, dazed state of mind, but he was quickly lulled by the way their scents mixed in the warmth of the bedroom, making a heady combination.

And so, he was caught completely off guard when Stiles bolted up in the bed with a pained cry only an hour or two later.

Peter could feel his eyes flashing red, his fangs dropping and his claws pricking holes in the sheets, looking for an enemy who - thankfully - wasn’t actually there.

“Ah, shit. Shit… Fuck that  _ hurts _ ,” Stiles moaned beside him, curled in on himself. It was a welcome distraction, and helped him finally get his change under control. 

“What happened?” he asked, swatting at the switch of his bedside lamp. The second the soft light of it flooded the room Stiles unfolded himself, examining his hand that he cradled to his chest.

Peter couldn’t stop growling when he noticed the reddened, blistered brand of skin around his wrist. It was bleeding a bit on some spots, smearing the white sheets with red.

“What the hell happened, Stiles?”

The boy closed his eyes, his face drawn with pain.

“He was almost here and then a fucking car hit it.”

It took Peter a minute to get what he was saying.

“Your lizard got ran over? And this is what it does?”

He had a hard time keeping the incredulity out of his voice. How could Stiles be this stupid? If having his little… familiar could result in something like this…

Stiles shook his head, like he could hear Peter’s thoughts.

“It’s okay. Not the first time… Will need a few weeks to heal and for the tattoo to appear again.”

Tattoo. Of course. Suddenly Peter wished he hadn’t been so gentlemanly and pried the boy out of his undershirt and pants too to uncover all his secrets… But there was no time for that now.

He got up, making a quick trip to the bathroom. He never used it before, but he did have a first aid kit under the sink.

Peter liked to think that he’d been planning on getting the box anyway, and that he didn’t just go out and buy one after Stiles started to come over regularly.

“I’m not very good at this,” he warned when he returned, sitting down on Stiles’ side of the bed. 

“Uh, I… You really don’t need to do anything, I‘ll just…”

“Nonsense,” Peter growled. He was just annoyed over his lost sleep. Or that’s what he told himself. “It needs to be disinfected and wrapped up.”

Stiles quirked a little smile at him.

“Oh, I thought you weren’t very good at this.”

Peter raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not, but I’m good at common sense. Thankfully, since you seem to lack it completely.”

Stiles didn’t seem offended, he just held his hand out when Peter reached for it without a word, but he was still smiling.

***

They didn’t join the pack for their trip to the Preserve to show the Durands around, instead they kept to Peter’s apartment. 

He didn’t let the boy type with the state his wrist was in, so he got back to the tedious job of combing through facebook, and Stiles hit up the best bestiary that Peter had in his library.

After breakfast, Peter finally breached the subject he had been avoiding.

He couldn’t believe he had to be the one to bring this up.

“Shouldn’t we tell Scott?”

Stiles didn’t look up, but he could see the way his shoulders tensed up at the name.

“Sure. And what do we tell him? Where did we get that information? And then? Then what? We don’t have proof and we’re not even sure she’s really coming here. Emilia might just be grasping at straws,” Stiles said, turning a page in the frail book without really reading it.

“Best case scenario, Scott believes us. You know what he will do? He will confront the Durands about it, which will blow our cover and destroy any fragile goodwill she might have for us.”

Peter listened to him. It all made sense, he even guessed most of it before asking, but still. The situation painted a pretty bleak picture of the world Stiles was living in.

“You’ve really walled yourself into a corner, haven’t you?”

Because Stiles might have been powerful and careful and incredibly valuable, but nobody could ever find out. Scott would be shattered over the secrecy, and it wasn’t like Stiles could just take over the pack. He wasn’t a wolf. So he was left not only knowing all the nasty secrets, but also tasked with burying them too.

Stiles shrugged, rubbing at the back of his head with his uninjured hand.

Peter turned back to the laptop. Sure, it wasn’t ideal, but… at least Stiles wasn’t alone anymore.

***

They worked through the day, piecing the picture together. Peter narrowed his list down to two; Anastasia Durand and Lexi Arnold. Both of them were Emilia’s great grandchildren, and they shared a grandfather, one of Emilia’s sons, who died two weeks ago.

With a bit of asking around and with a helping of educated guesswork, Peter figured out that Anastasia’s father was already and Alpha and her mother was human, and Lexi’s parents were dead thanks to an accident - a hunter related ‘accident’ actually, but of course that wasn’t on her facebook. They were roughly the same age, and there was no way to tell which one of them would have inherited the spark.

“Are both of them werewolves, though?” Stiles asked. He’d been silent for a while, and from the way his eyebrows were drawn together, Peter suspected that he was on to something in the bestiary.

“Well, they are both vapid teenage girls and yet they wear sunglasses in all of their selfies, so I would say that’s a yes.”

“Hey, don’t shame girls for taking control of their image,” Stiles said, throwing a crumpled up paper at him that he’d been taking notes on.

Peter ducked easily.

“In any case, one of them will be it. And neither has written on their ‘wall’ in two weeks.”

Stiles nodded, looking at the page in front of him with narrow eyes.

“I think I know what the problem is,” he blurted out.

Peter hummed under his breath. He had a hard time admitting to himself how much he liked seeing Stiles like this; concentrated, scheming. He looked to be in his element.

“There’s a legend here, it’s all very greek and in ‘ye olde times’ but basically it says that an Alpha spark, when it’s too old and the recipient of it is not well prepared, can go bad… Whatever that’s supposed to mean.”

He looked up at, their eyes meeting.

“It gets  _ spoiled _ , is what it means,” Peter said.

Stiles nodded, his face sharp in the slowly waning light… Then he sat up, his spine ramrod straight, his whole body trembling with tension.

“And she’s here.”

***

“Did you…  _ feel  _ anything about her?” Peter asked, he wasn’t sure about the sort of wards Stiles had, but he could remember them being rather curious, prodding, even.

Stiles nodded jerkily. He was wearing grooves into the carpet around Peter’s couch.

“Yeah, she… she didn’t feel like you did. Or the other Durands,” he explained, running his fingers through his already messy hair. “She’s… there’s no sense in her, Peter. None. Only instinct. She felt more like an animal than any actual animal I’ve ever felt.”

Well, that didn’t sound good.

“Alright. Let’s look at the bright side here. She’s crazy, she’s not going to outplan us, or lure us into a trap, so we just have to find her and eliminate the threat.”

Unfortunately the fact that she was out of her mind also meant that they didn’t have much time to act. God save them if she wandered into the town.

“Can you tell where she is?” 

Stiles shook his head, rubbing at his face.

“No. She came in from the east, right into the Preserve. It… She’s here for a reason, Peter.”

They realized it at the exact same time.

“The Nemeton,” Peter said. It wouldn’t be surprising. She had no more wits than a moth right now, and Beacon Hills happened to have the biggest… beacon around.

“Fuck.”

“What do you want to do?” Peter asked him. As much as this town was his too, somewhere along the line Stiles took the reins of this operation and he didn’t even mind it.

“Well, other than Scott, Allison and me, nobody without magic should be able to find the Nemeton. At least not easily, unless she stumbles on it accidentally…”

“Maybe, but we can’t really risk it… I’m not sure what would happen, but the last thing we need is for a rogue Alpha to get a power boost,” Peter reasoned.

But they couldn’t actually go and guard it night and day… Not without raising suspicion.

Stiles finally stopped pacing, dropping down to the couch with a sigh.

“Okay. Okay… I think we can assume that she’s pulled by the power, that’s how she got here in the first place. We know she’s searching for it, actually, it’s the only place we know she’ll want to be.”

Peter sat down beside him, and Stiles shifted, making their knees knock together to a rhythm only he could hear.

“We need to have the Nemeton watched and we need to tell the Durands to take care of their problem or we are going to do it.”

Peter put a hand on the boy’s thigh to stop his leg from jittering.

“Right. But we have a small problem; I can watch the Nemeton or I can accompany you to the Durands, but I can’t do both, and I refuse to let you go there alone, especially when you are essentially delivering a threat.”

Stiles patted the back of Peter’s hand with a grin before getting up.

“I’ve got us covered, just have to dispatch one of my spies.”

“No,” Peter said. “Your lizard is out of commission and I doubt your little bird would be of any use in a thick forest.”

And he didn’t even want to think about Stiles getting hurt again.

Stiles gave him a cheeky smile as he started to pull his crumbled dress shirt off.

“Oh, I totally agree. We need something that has the sight, the hearing and the sense of smell to notice danger in time and… something that can protect itself,” he said. 

Peter raised an eyebrow as Stiles slipped out of his undershirt too. He looked good… Good enough that Peter barely paid attention to the red cardinal tattooed on the middle of his chest.

And then Stiles was turning around, showing off the art that was covering his whole back.

It was… Peter didn’t even know. It was a reddish mammal, long haired with surprisingly large claws, but he couldn’t identify it; it was curled into a tight ball, hiding its head under its paws.

Stiles looked at him over his shoulder, still grinning with a manic glint in his eyes.

“They have to be life-sized, so I went with the best whoop-ass-to-square-inch ratio I could think of,” he said, before he shuddered.

Peter watched with absolute awe as the… the fucking  _ wolverine  _ uncurled from its resting place, landing on its feet on the floor in the middle of his living room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! This is finally finished :D
> 
> Once again, thanks to my lovely Emma for keeping me on track, and special thanks to LC for giving me a little boost when I needed one <3

“A wolverine,” Peter said, his voice sounding colorless even to his own ears. He might have been in a bit of a shock, which was quite a new feeling.

“Yup,” Stiles said, popping the ‘p’ as he put his undershirt back on. Peter would have been sad about that, but he was too mesmerized by the wild animal sniffing around his living room. It seemed… real. Not like the lizard or the bird hadn’t been real - he wouldn’t have been able to tell that they were magical without already being suspicious of them - but this one was… different.

He looked up at Stiles, finally managing to tear his gaze away from the creature, and realized what felt so off. The boy didn’t have that same, distant look on his face.

Once again, Stiles seemed to read his mind. That was a new trait that should have worried Peter, but he had to admit that he didn’t mind it.

“This guy is much more independent, doesn’t need me to be in constant control. The other two are… well, dumb as fuck.” he explained, crouching down. The wolverine ran over to him like a pet, pushing its head against Stiles’ hand.

“Aw, aren’t you just the fluffiest?” the boy asked, and okay, the baby talk was too much for Peter. On one hand, seeing those claws so near the boy made him antsy, on the other… his wolf had  _ problems  _ with Stiles being so affectionate with such a creature. 

“Birds aren’t inherently stupid, though. You could have gotten a raven or a crow,” he said with a raised eyebrow.

Stiles shrugged.

“Not really. Corvids are smart and large parrots are smart, but corvids have too much of a historical connection to magic. Most supernatural creatures would be immediately suspicious of them. And parrots don’t exactly blend into the local fauna.”

“True,” Peter said. He hated to admit it, but the wolverine was really beautiful with its reddish, glossy coat. “But as impressive as your little friend is, I’m not sure it’s equipped to handle an Alpha werewolf out for blood.”

It was Stiles’ turn to raise an eyebrow.

“Well, I don’t know about that. I mean, I know he’s not big, and I haven’t tested him against an Alpha yet, but wolverines aren’t fearsome for their size, it’s the  _ spirit _ . He might not be an actual match for that crazy chick, but you can bet your ass that he will try.”

Peter didn’t like this at all.

***

After it was dark they let the wolverine out at the edge of the preserve and he quickly disappeared among the trees, nose to the ground and round ears twitching.

“Okay, I’ve sent him to the Nemeton. If the Alpha gets even close, we will know about it immediately.”

Peter looked at Stiles.

“And then we will come pick him up before he can get killed, right?” he prodded, because he wasn’t fond of the idea of Stiles’ whole back melting off when that thing died.

The boy nodded absentmindedly.

“Yeah, sure, we will do that.”

Peter considered banging his head against the steering wheel, but instead he just turned around and drove off towards the Durands’ hotel.

***

Despite past proof to the contrary, Peter wasn’t crazy. Emilia had two more Alphas and a beta at her beck and call, so yeah. He didn’t like the odds of ringing the doorbell and giving them an ultimatum.

“So, like, why don’t we just call them?” Stiles asked, making Peter huff in exasperation.

“Come on, darling, you’re smarter than this. Do you have their number?”

“Um, no.”

“Do you have a burner phone?”

“Well, no, but we could just call their room and…”

“And in case we have to kill that girl and her body gets found somewhere down the line you want the hotel to have your number on record calling her family beforehand?”

“Except, we already had dinner with them? The whole pack did, in fact.”

Peter waved his hand in the air dismissively.

“It could be argued that they are distant relatives of the Hales, so we should be okay with that, but this way, they won’t know who exactly is threatening them. If I do this right they won’t be able to recognize my voice, and we need to have that anonymity on our side.”

Stiles shook his head - almost fond - and gave him a sheepish grin.

“I don’t know if I should be impressed or horrified by how invested you are in this murder already,” he said, making Peter smile. 

Impressed, he hoped.

As soon as the hotel came into sight he slowed down.

“I will need you to stay quiet, understood?”

Stiles blinked at him.

“Have you  _ met  _ me?”

Peter rolled his eyes.

“Yes, yes I have, and I have some duct tape in the back, in case you need a little help with the task at hand.”

Stiles mimed zipping his mouth shut, locking it, and throwing the key away. Peter had no idea how he ever found the annoying little brat charming.

They rolled into the parking lot, stopping where the buildings’ shadows hid them the most. He slapped a hand over Stiles’ mouth, just to be on the safe side.

Peter already knew which rooms the Durands had, they were close enough. Just on the edge of hearing range.

He started with a low growl - it wasn’t even loud, but he could immediately hear a commotion from inside. Stiles shifted in his seat, grabbing Peter’s wrist, but not even trying to pull his hand away from his face.

“Alpha Emilia,” Peter said, keeping his voice low enough that it carried but would be hard to identify. “The girl you are looking for arrived today.”

He ducked down to look at the windows through the windshield of the van hiding their car from sight. The curtain moved, so he knew that they were listening. Thankfully with all the metal around them it would be hard to pinpoint where his voice was coming from.

“You and your pack get twenty four hours to find her and take her home, if you don’t or she hurts anyone, she will be dealt with.”

Peter waited, listening.

“I understand,” said someone from a distance. He didn’t have to recognize the voice to know it was Emilia.

Stiles licked his palm.

***

As much as Peter hated to do it, he drove Stiles home afterwards. Stiles might have been an adult now, but that didn’t mean his father didn’t worry when he disappeared for days on end.

“Thanks for the ride,” Stiles said, smiling at him. It was hard to pin down his expression in the low light.

“How is that little vermin of yours doing?” Peter asked. It was part honest curiosity, part nagging need to keep Stiles beside him for just a few more moments.

Stiles leaned back in the passenger seat, closing his eyes for a second. Then his nose scrunched up.

“ _ Yuck _ . Eating a dead deer is what he’s doing. But he is staying near to the Nemeton.”

“Aw, you don’t like venison?” Peter teased. 

Stiles stuck out his tongue, reaching for the door handle.

“I like it fine, but I prefer it without maggots,” he said, getting out. “G’night, Peter.”

***

Peter spent the next day feeling out of sorts, puttering around his apartment until he was fed up with himself. He couldn’t shake off the notion that something was missing… Thankfully he always managed to distract himself before he had to admit to himself what exactly he was feeling.

Normally he would have gone for a run in the preserve, but that was out of the question now. He didn’t like the idea of running into a crazed Alpha on his own, never mind running into Emilia and her pack on the search for her… 

Emilia might have acted like she was partial to the Hales, but it was pretty clear now that she couldn’t care less about them and was only here to clean up whatever little fuckup happened in her family.

So Peter puttered. And made pot roast. And checked his phone again and again. According to Scott the tour of the preserve went well with the Durands yesterday, but the boy wouldn’t see trouble coming if an axe-murderer was standing in front of him soaked in blood, so that wasn’t much to go on.

He was just finished eating when Stiles’ name started flashing on the screen of his phone.

“What do you need?” Peter asked, trying to sound cheerful despite the dread climbing up his spine. It was a familiar feeling that saved his life a few times before.

“I need you to pick me up,” Stiles said quickly, his voice hard and cold and making the hair stand up on Peter’s neck in a way that wasn’t entirely bad. “My dad just left. They’ve found a dead jogger.”

“On my way,” Peter said.

Show time.

***

“Are you sure it was her?”

Peter asked as soon as Stiles jumped into the car - before he could even roll to a stop.

“Torn to shreds on the edge of the Preserve,” the boy said, staring out the windshield. “It has to be her. And Erica said the Durands are at the hotel.”

Peter raised an eyebrow.

“You sent her there?”

That didn’t seem like a smart move.

Stiles shrugged.

“She’s sitting in the cafe on the corner, in public, so it’s not like they will bother her there. And she volunteered… Apparently Emilia gave her the creeps.”

Peter inclined his head. Fair enough.

“So what do you plan to do, darling?” 

Stiles let out a slow breath, relaxing his body with effort, but Peter could still feel the tension radiating off him.

“I’m going to let Noodle sniff around a bit, maybe he can give us some directions,” he said, leaning against the door, head rested on the window.

Peter blinked at him.

“You named  _ that  _ creature  _ Noodle _ ?” He would have been hard pressed to find a worse name for a ferocious predator.

“Well, I wanted to go for Logan first, but didn’t want to be a cliche, you know. And he’s actually a very floppy boy when he’s relaxed.”

Peter shook his head and stepped on the gas.

***

The sun was swooping below the line of the trees by the time they parked. Stiles didn’t say a word the whole way, and Peter would have thought that he fell asleep, if he wasn’t so acutely aware of the way he tensed from time to time.

He turned off the engine, giving the boy a few more seconds to do… whatever it was he was doing.

“Okay,” Stiles said suddenly, coming alive like a enchanted mannequin. “I have the scent.”

Peter lifted an eyebrow.

“I seriously doubt that.”

Stiles shrugged.

“Eh, whatever. Come on, Noodle’s here.”

They met the wolverine at the edge of the trees, and as soon as he saw them, he took off, deeper into the woods, barely waiting for them to follow. Stiles rooted around in his backpack, only half of his attention on the terrain.

Peter caught his elbow when he inevitably tripped on a rock

“What are you doing?” he asked, annoyed. He had half a mind to take Stiles back to the car and knock him out. He was confident in his own abilities enough, but he wasn’t sure how he would deal with Stiles in the melee with him.

The boy pulled out his phone, checked it with a frown and then threw it back. A second later he finally found what he was looking for, passing the collapsible baton to Peter while he zipped up.

The baton was heavy and it smelled faintly of blood and ozon.

“Nice,” he said, despite the sudden revulsion coming over him. Thankfully Stiles took it back quickly enough.

“Thanks, that’s a lie,” the boy told him with a grin. “I’ve ordered it specifically. It’s cast iron - not as good against fairies as cold iron, but still does the job - I had it tempered in wolfsbane infused water… I hope it didn’t give you blisters.”

“You’re a little asshole,” Peter told him and then quickly rubbed his palm against his jeans.

Stiles chuckled, opening the baton with a snap of his arm. The metallic ‘snick’ as it locked into place had Peter’s hackles raised; Stiles seemed dangerous, and it was a good look on him.

Noodle stopped to make sure they were following him before continuing on. It was getting dark, especially under the canopy of the trees.

“So,” Stiles said after a few moments of silence. “What’s up with us?”

That wasn’t the sort of conversation Peter was expecting.

“Is this really the time?” he asked instead of trying to deny it. Ever since he returned there had been a connection between them. A pull. Something that had capacity for more if they allowed it.

“Well,” Stiles mused, “I have you alone right now, and this is actually another mark on my checklist.”

Peter glanced at him curiously.

“Oh, really?”

Stiles nodded his head, swinging his baton at the underbush.

“Yup. You’ve cooked for me. Multiple times, in fact,” he said, counting it out on his fingers. “Then you bought me clothes. I mean, sure, there was a purpose, but you really didn’t need to buy me a full wardrobe from your own money… And third, you did not ask me what the plan was, or if we were calling the pack or anything of the sorts. I’ve just said we are coming, and here you are.”

Peter sighed.

“I don’t see where you’re going with this. I’m just being a decent person,” he said with a pout that made Stiles burst out laughing.

“Peter Hale, you’ve never been a decent person in your life,” he said, bumping their shoulders together. “And don’t get me wrong, that wasn't a complaint… I like people who can be loyal without being tied down by moral obligations.”

Now that almost made Peter pause.

“You think I’m  _ loyal _ ?”

Stiles shrugged.

“To yourself? Certainly. And I feel like maybe for m…”

And that was when Noodle started growling.

***

Peter seethed at himself, even as he pushed Stiles behind him, for getting so distracted. Still, the few seconds of warning the wolverine gave them was enough to brace himself for the attack.

He saw the eyes first, just for a flash, and then the Alpha was on them, roaring furiously. She didn’t look right. The light was tricky, and she was moving too fast, but Peter could swear her body looked even more monstrous than he did during his first stint as an Alpha.

She certainly lacked the wits Peter had, even when he was mad, charging right at him, not deterred at all by Peter letting his fangs drop and flashing his eyes at her.

Stiles cursed behind him, getting out of the way just when she collided into Peter, both of them collapsing to the ground. Her sheer force was amazing.

“Fuck you,” Stiles shouted. He was holding his baton like a baseball bat, and hit her in the back of the head hard enough that something cracked. She screamed in a mixture of anger and agony and the distraction was enough for Peter to throw her off, getting back on his feet quickly to get himself between her and Stiles, who seemed to be the focus of her attention now.

“That was stupid, don’t do it again” Peter panted. Stiles smelled like nerves and adrenaline and something he couldn’t identify, but had to be  _ recklessness _ . 

“Well, don’t get eaten then, I was in the middle of asking you out,” Stiles complained. 

What.

Peter wanted an explanation, but the Alpha was coming at them again. This time, he was better prepared, and it didn’t hurt that Noodle seemed to have joined the fray. The wolverine threw himself at her when she was mid-charge, digging his fangs and claws into her neck from below. She roared, trying to swat Noodle off, but he wasn’t going anywhere, clinging to her like a particularly vicious tick.

Peter grabbed the opportunity, wrestling her to the ground and trying to keep her occupied while Noodles tore out her artery.

She got weak quickly, but was healing too fast for the wolverine to finish her, so Peter reached over, tearing her throat out with his claws. 

She went boneless, and he could feel the rush of her power melting into his. It felt… ancient and powerful and Peter wasn’t sure he could have withstood it if he wasn’t an Alpha already. But he was, so he just lay there for a second, waiting for the spark to settle in the marrow in his bones.

“You good?” Stiles asked. He sounded breathless, like he was on the edge of an adrenaline crash and a panic attack. “Don’t make me sic him on you.”

Noodle huffed, and then started to lazily lick the blood on Peter’s fingers.

“I’m fine,” Peter said, getting up slowly, dizzy with power. 

Stiles strolled over, looking into his eyes, searching for something. Madness, probably.

Peter was taken aback by the way he looked, his pupils blown from the excitement of the fight, his smell thick between them, spicy and alive.

Leaning in for a kiss felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Stiles’ mouth opened with a little moan, his baton clanking to the ground as he grasped at Peter, pulling him close.

They would have to take care of the body. They would have to clean up and destroy the evidence and escort the Durands out of the territory - hopefully without the others ever being the wiser.

But they deserved to steal a few moments for this. Here. Under the cover of the trees. In the shadows.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at udunie.tumblr.com
> 
> Please leave a comment if you liked it!


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